Parvill - Punishment
by escapo
Summary: When Will comes back to the castle to find Parvis passed out cold of the altar again, he decides it's time for an intervention.


"Parvis?" The CEO's voice rang loud and clear through the empty silence of the castle. He wasn't particularly surprised when no voice answered; when the only noise that responded to his call was his echoing footsteps; when the young blood mage was nowhere to be found in the castle except the one room where half the time the short blond man didn't dare to step into.

The castle had seemed untouched by anyone since he had last visited, the walls and chests containing mostly the same materials and physical state. One could even guess it was uninhabited from lack of buzzing life; almost seemingly deserted at least a year or two ago. Sadly, only Parvis and he knew the secret depths of this place, and what took place there.

With a heavy sigh, he took a small glance around the main room, trying to stall his confrontation with the other. He shook his slightly and walked as quietly as possible up to the door with a sign that messily read "ALTAR" above it, placing a soft fist on it before giving it a gentle knock.

Once again, he received no answer. Will let his hand defeatedly fall to meet the handle, twisting it open with a louder than expected squeak. He pushed it open slowly and peeked through, taking in the sight that met him when he allowed himself in.

At a first instinct, a flash of panic shot through the CEO's veins and he jolted forward an inch at the sight. His gaze lowered slightly and he slowly walked up the steps of the blood plagued altar, almost shaking with traces of fear. The guitarist's body was drawn limply across the altar, blood covered arms smearing the once white marbled sides and clean stone slabs with sticky red gore.

Will wondered how many times this happened. He was almost surprised at himself for not expecting it; He had come back to the castle to find Parvis passed out over the altar, cut too deep, at least fifteen times as of yet. It hurt to see his friend lose his sanity to something as stupid as blood magic, and as the occurrence repeated itself, he finally decided it was time to do something about it.

Will reluctantly took a seat next to Parvis, reaching over to prop Parvis' limp body against the altar in a make shift sitting position. In a blood dripping hand, Will noticed, was a gore dripping dagger. The sacrificial dagger, he presumed. He reached out and nearly gagged as he separated the cold, pale, fingers from the handle of the knife, keeping the blade by his own side and safely away from the blood mage.

He wondered how many hours Parvis had been out cold like this, but shook off the thought. He would just have to wait until he woke up. He closed his eyes in the semi calm silence, and waited.

It had to have been at least been another two or three hours of uncannily tedious 'peace' of the business man deciding how to appropriately deal with Parvis' situation before he actually stirred out of unconsciousness. His head lolled slightly, and he weakly lifted his head off of Will's shoulder. Parvis felt like his head was going to explode. He felt physically unmovable, and the steps of the altar were extremely uncomfortable. With Will sitting next to him, Parvis wondered why he hadn't woken up in a bed of some sort like past instances suggested.

"Will…?" He murmured softly, groggily wiping at his eyes and then wincing as he dryly smeared crusted blood over it. He sighed.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" He asked gently, returning the softness of the other's voice. Instead of answering, however, Parvis groaned in reply. Will didn't chuckle at his friends attempt to bring a light-heartedness feel to the situation. "Thought so," He replied again.

They sat for a couple of minutes, Parvis almost drifting back off into sleep from lack of energy to complain about the two's uncomfortable situation. That is, before Will interrupted his lazy drowsiness.

"Can you stand?" He questioned, giving a small glance to the other as he shot up from his half sleep position.

"Hm…? Probably. Just a few more minutes." Parvis replied halfheartedly, keeping his eyes open to keep himself from drifting off again. He wondered why again that Will kept him here, at the bottom of the altar, instead of in the bedroom. With a sigh he propped himself fully up, feeling the pounding headache start to fade.

Will felt sweat forming in the creases of his palms. He felt his heart rate pick up slowly as he prepared himself for what he was about to do. Not that it wasn't inevitable; there had to be some way to show Parvis the truth. He shook his head quickly, to rid of the small shakes racking his body in nervous anticipation.

Another half hour passed before Parvis successfully stood on his own, dusting himself off best he could with dirtying himself more. He sighed and placed his and hands on his hips, glancing around in sudden curiosity. A pout crossed his face as he looked down to Will, who was getting to his feet as well.

"Will," He started, crossing his arms. "Where's my knifey?" He complained, checking the floors through multiple times to make sure he hadn't obliviously scanned over it. Will gave him the 'you're an idiot' look, and shook his head in shame.

"Really, Parvis? I come back to visit to find you passed out cold over the altar for the, what, sixteenth time; sit with you until you feel healthy enough to get back on your feet, and you complain about where your stupid death dagger is?" He accused crossly, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood back up.

Parvis let out a small 'humph', and kept his arms cross indignantly. "What did you even want anyway?" He murmured, though Will could see the friendly tone hiding beneath the frustration. Without a word, Will stepped forward, grabbing the guitarist's wrist from inside the fold of his arms.

Parvis quickly dropped his free hand to his side and curiously followed Will as he was led up the steps of the altar. He squinted his eyes as Will took a deep breath. Parvis felt himself hold his breath as Will shot a seldom serious but pleading glance at him, before reaching into his back pocket. _No turning back_. Will told himself, wrapping clean hands around the blade in his back pocket.

Will tried to steady his shaking hand as he brought the sacrificial knife to his opposite arm, leaning over the altar with a trembling sensation in his veins. Parvis opened his mouth slightly as Will brought the knife over his arm lightly, suppressing a flinch as blood wept over the side of his arm and plopped quietly into the pool in the altar. He brought the blade back again, fastening another gash on a different part of his arm. Beads of blood formed in the shallow incisions, and Parvis furrowed his eyebrows.

"Will, what is this? Is this supposed to be some kind of punishment?" He spat softly, feeling hurt seep into his tone as the blonde man continued to slash softly into his tan skin. It was an insult to Parv, how his closest friend would attempt at making him feel bad for using blood over the altar when just 'cutting yourself' had little to do with the art of the concept. Parvis rambled angrily in his mind about how discourteous Strife was being, unaware that Will started to cut deeper into the soft flesh of his wrists.

He slowly cast a glance back to the altar, almost wincing at the sight of his teacher whole heartedly running the blade mercilessly through his once so flawless skin, determined to continue. "Will? You can stop, now. This isn't funny," He murmured.

Will bit his lip firmly as the blade sliced his skin, deeper with every go he had. He began to flinch as the dagger was at least a fourth of an inch in, and trembled with effort to keep going as Parv's gaze slowly lost its malice. His skin color was no longer identifiable with how much bloodshed covered it.

"Will…! Seriously, stop!" Parvis repeated, a pleading tone tearing through whatever hint of hatred he previously had. He felt his stomach drop away in relief as the CEO paused momentarily, and started to reach out for his friend. Will weakly waved him off, as he handed the dagger to his blood covered hand. His face hardened with effort to grip the dagger in his minced arm, beginning to slice the other with no sign of regret.

"Will! Stop!" Parvis raised his voice as Will's face grew paler and paler, slowing his movements by a third but nevertheless continuing to wound his arms, hands, and everything in between. Parvis wasn't sure at what point he decided that it was enough, and broke free from his shocked, statue-like state to move closer to Will and take the knife from him.

Even though Will had been going at it for at least 10 minutes straight, Parvis was almost as weak as he and was taken by surprise as the stouter man shoved him away with what little energy he had left. Recovering from the impact, Realization tore him in half like a blade through his skin. Parvis covered his mouth as Will began to grow weaker with every slice, his once incredibly tan and stern face now incredibly pale and struggling. Tears bubbled in his eyes as he slowly stepped forward.

"Will… I get it... I get it. You can stop. Please, stop!" He begged, the tears now spilling over his eyelids as Will began to tremble with the effort of bringing his dagger weighted hand back up to his wrist and exerting enough force to make a gash deeper the previous. Parvis could've sworn he saw Will shake his head, as if trying to keep consciousness. "Will, Please…" Parvis sobbed, placing a small hand on Wills shoulder as the blonde man's knees began to buckle from blood loss.

Even still, the American pushed on with the torture, ignoring Parvis' loud pleas of resentment. Slowly and surely, the shorter man began to lose his composure, bowing his head and quaking from the pain and energy it took to continue forward.

Both arms completely drenched in blood, Will wondered how much longer it would be until he completely passed out. He knew that Parvis had gotten his point, how much it hurt to see the guitarist constantly bleed himself out to near death over the altar. For some reason, Will began to drown out all sounds and thoughts except for that one alone - it kept him going. Parvis' pleading and sobbing all faded and blurred into the background as well as the monotonous image of the same gashes being re-grazed, and the image of his ebony haired friend out cold and covered in blood was the only thing that kept him going…

Until he heard a soft clink of metal hitting marble… falling… and everything finally went black.

"Will…? Will…? Please wake up. Please…" Parvis whispered into the clean blonde locks of his hair. It had taken time to clean the blood from Will as well as himself, wrapping the countless wounds that lined the CEO's arms, and then successfully getting him into a bed. He wrapped his own arms as well, and sat beside Will with arms wrapped softly around the man's torso. He had never seen Will in so much pain, and Parvis couldn't help but to feel guilt wash over him. Will had witnessed the same thing countlessly as he came home to visit, and Parvis shuddered at the thought of accidently have a mishap and never being able to recover from it. He breathed in the scent of Will and ran his hands soothingly along the other's shoulders and back.

"I promise… I promise I won't do it anymore…" He begged softly, closing his eyes wearily. He sniffled softly. "Will… please…"

Parvis' eyes shot open as the CEO flinched ever so slightly. He tightened his grip around the man, and closed his eyes with terrified hope. "Please be okay…"

The other let out a sudden hacking cough. "I will be if you don't suffocate me first…" A soft voice whispered, with another choked cough. The younger man gasped, and pulled away from Will. He then grinned wickedly and softly wrapped his arms around the other.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He murmured into his ear. "I promised I won't hurt myself anymore…" His voice wavered at the remembrance of what Will did, and he sniffled. "I promise…"

Will smiled softly and melted into the guitarist's embrace. "Thank you." He murmured softly, still weak from over doing it a little. Parvis sighed and took in Will's presence, smiling softly to himself as the blonde placed his arms softly on his waist_. Some punishment that was, _he thought ironically.

He guessed he never knew the truth unless he experienced it himself.


End file.
